


The Artist

by Carebeark5



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carebeark5/pseuds/Carebeark5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The BAU team investigates the case of an artist who paints and poses it's victims in an art gallery. Hotch/Prentiss and Garcia/Morgan eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Artist

Chapter 1-Dark Arts

Lucious Annaeus Seneca said, “All art is but an imitation of nature.”

I watch as she leaves her house, turning to lock the door behind her. She has no idea I am watching from the bushes and a silent thrill rushes though me at the thought. I have been watching her for a week now and she is perfect for what I have in mind. This one will be my best one yet, the idea had been gnawing at me for a while now and I need to release it. People need to see my creation. 

I watch as she starts down the street like she does everyday on her way to work. Heading to the little coffee shop on the next corner. On the way she usually takes a short cut down the back alley near her house, this will be the perfect place to take her by surprise. I look to make sure no one is watching me and then I slip quietly down the alley behind her.

I take her by surprise, placing the chloroformed soaked rag over her mouth before she can scream. I drag her over to my car which I have parked a little further down and head back to my studio. I am eager to begin, to let my creative juices begin to flow. I mix the paints with an expert hand and glance across the room to where she waits. I plan to use tones of red for the passion she evokes in me and blues for the colour of her eyes. She is just beginning to wake up and I see her eyes flutter as she struggles against the bonds that hold her. 

The time is finally here, she is ready and so am I. My fingers are itching to begin and I grab my paint brush and start towards her, “Now, now you must hold still. We want you to look perfect for your viewing.” She tries to scream but the white scarf muffles those sounds. I begin panting her naked body as if it were my very own canvas. That way I can mold her to be the masterpiece I know she can be. She will live in people's minds forever just as art lives on in galleries. She will be known just as the paintings of Monet, VanGogh and Davinci are known even to those who may not understand art. Everyone would be able to recognize the Mona Lisa and that is what she is my very own Mona Lisa. 

Reaching over I crank up my music, it inspires me when I am creating. Now I am in the zone and there is no turning back. An hour later I lay down the brush, she has finally given up her struggles for she knows they will do her no good. I stand back to admire my work. It is perfect, she is a masterpiece. Now I must get her ready for her debut, they will love her. I will be written down in history books for this one. I reach out and gently touch her face, careful not to smear the paints. “I will always love you, you were my first.” I begin the next part of my plan so she can be displayed, the timing needs to be perfect.

Night has fallen and it is time to move her, I have the perfect spot for her. The paint has dried and the process is finished, I carefully place her on the stretcher and wheel her out to my van. I pull up outside the gallery, she will be appreciated her they will understand the genius I have created. Using the key I open the door, making sure no one is around. Then quickly wheel her across the room and into the one of the galleries. No one is here at the time of night and the guards are switching shifts. I know no one will be in this area for a few minutes and I must hurry. I lift her from the stretcher and pose her in front of the sculpture. I want to stand and admire her beauty a little longer, but I know I must leave quickly.

The security guard whistled as he came down the hallway and shone his flashlight into the gallery. Walking through as he was trained to do. He doesn't see her at first he just walks right by shining his light around the room before walking back across the floor. This is when he spots her, the beam of his flashlight hits her and he does a double take. He has to take a closer look to be sure he isn't seeing things. But it is exactly as he thought she is not just another sculpture; she is or was a living breathing person. 

It doesn't take long for the cops to show up and I turn to leave, I can't be caught. I must rest before thinking up my next masterpiece.


End file.
